


Cooper

by EzekielJK



Category: Garfield - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: (Okay the last one is a bit of a lie), Body Horror, Fictional Religion & Theology, GET IT, Gen, Good Boy, Graphic Description, Hell, Horror, Love, Master/Pet, Obsession, Ownership, Pets, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Religion, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzekielJK/pseuds/EzekielJK
Summary: “But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?”- Mark Twain
Relationships: Jon Arbuckle/Garfield, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Cooper

**Author's Note:**

> This story utilizes unique formatting styles. Be sure that you can see all sides of the page clearly

Cooper loved his owner Mike. He'd developed a fondness for walking around the neighborhood, sporting his black leather, spiked collar around his furry neck. It was almost humorous to think that the spikes on his neck were to make him seem more intimidating. Cooper was a large greyhound with a shiny grey coat. Being a greyhound, Cooper naturally had plenty of energy that Mike had to desperately control. Cooper didn't usually like that but he still loved Mike for keeping him in check.

Mike, like Cooper, had a very active lifestyle of his own. Whether it be running, shooting trap, or golfing with a friend, Mike was seemingly determined to fill up his free time with anything other than staying at home. This would make Cooper very sad. Mike still loved his furry, running buddy which only made it more difficult to leave him locked in the house and backyard as he went away. 

You might notice that Cooper seems to have a lot more feelings about certain things in his life than other dogs. This is because he is not like any other dog. You see, some time ago, I'm not sure about the date, a group of individuals clad in burgundy cloaks met in secret. Somewhere in the British isles, six men or women gathered to perform a ritual. I am no expert on doomsday cults but that ritual was successful although they did not realize it then. The very second that they had finished their eerie chant, something began to change inside Cooper the greyhound. He began to feel. This was to be expected as the intended emotion was anger and destruction. However, something was different. At the very moment that the cult's song had finished echoing off of the walls of their damp hideout, Cooper was kissed grey forehead and told he was a good boy by Mike. At that same moment, the rage that should have filled his heart was offset by a new emotion: love. Do not ask me why, out of the billions of living creatures a simple dog was chosen to usher in the end of the world. I doubt that those who summoned him understand it either. The simple fact is that Cooper was now the Dark Messiah, sent to bring whomever he can to the underworld.

Many faiths, religions, multilevel marketing groups and gurus have suggested various versions of the afterlife. Some suggest a heavenly place of eternal peace and sunshine. Others prefer a cycle of endless rebirth until reaching Nirvana. None of these are correct however because they all contain one major flaw. There is no "good place." There is no ultimate good to attain. This is not to say that those who believe that nothing happens after death are correct. There may not be a heaven but there certainly is a hell, an infinite supply in fact. It was Cooper's job to fill the remaining space of Hades with the few stragglers still left on Earth.

But Cooper was still just a dog. A dog with feelings, yes, but no mythical powers to speak of. They took ages to develop but they came nonetheless. The first oddity beyond the ability to feel emotions was a small retractable tentacle that sprouted from his rear thigh. Cooper quickly understood that it was not yet time to release the worldwide pain that he had been sent to deliver. He found that, no matter the otherworldly powers he developed, he could always resume his natural dog form. While living with his loving master, Cooper began noticing more strange urges. I originally took these urges to mean "kill" or "attack" but I was actually somewhat mistaken. Instead, the command that was spoken was "retrieve." "Bring back those whose souls are already damned" it seemed to scream. "Allow me to sort them into their respective prisons." Cooper was beginning to realize that even Mike had a place in Hell.

What was Cooper's place in the End? That I am not sure. I assume that he would ultimately be given a place of honor in the underworld. Perhaps he would sit on his own dark throne in a violent mockery of the old Sunday School stories. Hell was waiting to damn his soul as well, though. Perhaps that throne would be laced with poisoned knives and razor blades. At least it would be better than what goes on in the lower levels. But what about Mike? Surely he would not be able to attain the same, relatively merciful fate as his pet. No, Cooper would have to give his master salvation. It will not be easy but Cooper had to try. If only there were a Paradise that Mike could go to instead.

Being the harbinger of the apocalypse gave some more otherworldly powers. Cooper could speak to Hell itself. As Cooper's powers grew stronger and his appetite more insatiable, he pleaded with the dark domain to give Mike the best destruction possible. The response was quick. Mike had to go through more suffering than anyone else in history. Only then could he offset the eternal suffering from down below.

Begrudgingly, Cooper agreed. In order to save the one he loved, he would have to place him under such unimaginable torment that it would outweigh the very flames of Hell. His power was nearly complete and he already had his target. 

At this point, Cooper had developed not just the power to create new appendages but completely morph his body into an unholy mass of gelatinous fur and bone then, in the blink of an eye, restructure himself to look normal or even more monstrous. Naturally, Cooper kept this to himself as Mike watched TV in the other room.

**"Hello Mike"**

Mike whipped his head around in shock and paused the TV. "Who's there?" he shouted into the seemingly empty house.

**"A friend"**

The voice seemed to have shifted to the other side of Mike's chair. It was closer. Mike had jumped out of his chair by this point and was actively looking to arm himself with whatever improvised blunt weapon he could find. Luckily, he had left a golf club propped next to the entertainment center.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of my house!" Mike shouted, making sure to articulate every word.

**"Our,"** the voice hissed back.

"W-what?" Mike asked back in slight confusion.

**"It's our house, Mike."**

Mike’s gaze rose to a far corner of the ceiling. A vaguely familiar face emerged from the shadow. Cooper’s snout was peeking out from behind the wall. From Mike’s perspective, Cooper was standing on top of a large object, giving him his impossible height; that or he had grown several feet in the span of a few minutes. As it so happens, that is exactly what had happened.

“C-Cooper?” Mike squeaked, “What’s the matter? Are you okay, buddy? What happened to your face?” Cooper’s eyes had begun to multiply and split apart, like cells in a petri dish. Nothing was the matter as this was simply Cooper embodying one of his many forms. Mike began to walk toward the dog. He had begun to put down his guard.

**“Do you know what happens after you die?”** the demonic canine questioned his former master. “Did you just speak?” asked Mike as he approached. As Mike neared, he attempted to flick on the lights to no avail. He had no idea that Cooper had mangled the hidden wiring.

Cooper reiterated his question. **“Do you know what happens when you have had your guts forcefully removed from your chest?”**

Mike had finally rounded the corner. As he witnessed what his greyhound had become, he gasped as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. Cooper had morphed into an incomprehensible mass of flesh reaching the ceiling of the kitchen he was sitting in. Legs had sprouted from impossible places on his folds of fat. Intestines and fur had melded together into a greyish-red blob. Cooper had long, spider-like legs sprouted from the bottom of his body, presumably to help him maneuver his environment. The blob was vaguely cone shaped, coming to a long skinny neck. At the end of the curved neck lied the most familiar of Cooper’s body. His head had a similar outline of the dog Mike once knew. However, his face had sprouted countless more eyeballs and retinas, morphing and reforming.

Above all, it was the smell that was the most imposing. As Cooper’s body moved it left trails of feces and blood.

Mike again attempted to gather any semblance of understanding. “W-what happened to you, boy?” he stammered.

**“When you die, you suffer but do you know what happens afterward?**

A long, snakelike tail slithered behind Mike's back, a sharp prong hovering above his left shoulder. 

**“You die again"**

Cooper's tail cocked with a loud snap. Mike's head creaked to the side to see what fate awaited him. Almost in slow motion, Mike felt the sharp tail pierce his t-shirt followed by the excruciating pain of it penetrating his chest. As it pressed inward, it snapped the bones of his ribcage before puncturing his heart. The blood from his body quickly left his extremities leaving a cold husk left standing in his torn clothes. Mike barely had time to scream before feeling as if the air had been ripped from his lungs (which, as it so happened, was exactly the case).

The pain was quick yet not prolonged. Mike quickly blacked out before awakening again. He was falling. As he fell, he watched as millions of souls worked and suffered in the endless layers that he passed. The heat steadily increased and below was a fire that never seemed to get closer as Mike's soul fell. A loud screech echoed from above him. Wrenching his head away from the blazing hot winds below him, Mike watched as Cooper, now brandishing even more tentacles and large wings like a bat was rushing towards him at a breakneck speed. In a split second, Mike attempted to compare which was worse: falling endlessly into the pit of Hell or whatever awaited him once his old pet had reached him.

This was not his choice. Cooper swiftly reached Mike's helpless soul and shot numerous barbed tails into his chest and forehead. The unbearable heat from Hell only helped to add a scorching sizzle to the already intense pain. Cooper quickly jerked upwards, back towards Earth, and a loud crack was heard as Mike's spine snapped in half. Again, Mike lost consciousness.

Mike awoke in the same chair that he began in. The living room Mike sat in appeared to be untouched: the TV was queuing up the next episode of Mike's favorite show, the remote was still in his hand, and there was no sign of Cooper anywhere. This was a mere facade as Cooper began creeping up alongside the outer walls of the home. Like ooze, the Dark Messiah slithered up behind the rose bushes, wide and flattened before enveloping the entire house. None would witness what else was in store.


End file.
